The Classified Dossier: Sherlock Holmes and Count Dracula(85)

“Holmes,” I said, “that’s remarkable!” I took a sip from my cup and then frowned, finding the taste stale and slightly bitter.

“Yes,” Holmes said, “another of Moriarty’s attacks, I’m afraid. I had to discard the fresh blood delivered this morning from the butcher’s shop and make arrangements to substitute another. Far less fresh, I’m afraid.”

“But why?”

“Because the first batch was poisoned, Watson, with silver.”

I set my cup down, suddenly feeling a chill. “Poisoned? How could you possibly have known that?”

“Because I’ve been on guard against it,” Holmes said, “and have tested your supply after each arrival to make certain that only livestock contributed to it, and not any agent of the Mariner Priest’s, that is to say, of Moriarty’s. Having unique knowledge of your needs and weaknesses, it seemed a likely angle of attack. At least I did not need Mrs Gladstone to safeguard us on this front!” He sighed. “But have no fear – I have a confederate, with secrets of his own that I have promised to keep, that very likely has a line on a fresher source of repast for you that should be more secure against contamination without asking too many questions. The need for one gallon of chicken or cow’s blood is easy enough to explain away, but asking for the same on a continual basis is quite another thing. Fortunately, Raffles—”

“Raffles?” I said. “The burglar from your last case? I think I must sit. This is a great wealth of information coming very quickly.”

“Things are coming to a head, Doctor,” Holmes said. “They are not likely to slow down until this affair is quite finished, one way or another.”

That had an ominous ring to it, but I knew that Holmes did not exaggerate. If anything, he understated the case. The fact that Moriarty had already taken the pains to come at us from the flanks, as it were, did not in any way assuage me. Holmes was right. This was a campaign that could only end with our downfall or his.

“This Raffles,” I said, “can he be trusted?”

“Well,” Holmes said, “like I said, I have in my pocket a secret of his that he considers quite outrageous. It is not every man that occupies the finest gentlemen’s clubs by day and commits burglaries by night. Even then, I would not have acquiesced even that far, except that he has limited his victims to those that have come by their monies through illegal means and has even passed along a great deal of information that has brought more serious and immoral criminals to the dock. Little does he imagine that we hold a considerably more outré secret.”

Holmes’s tone was jocular, but now that I looked for it, I could see that being on guard against Moriarty’s constant schemes was starting to tell on even his iron constitution. His lean, ascetic face was haggard and his dark eyes sunken.

“Holmes?” I said. “When did you last sleep? You cannot bear the burden of this all on your own shoulders.”

“I’m afraid,” he said by way of reply, “that we have rather more to worry about than just food sources and economic matters.” He pushed a letter, already opened and no doubt examined, across the table to me. I recognized Mina’s handwriting at once and snatched it up. Inside, she detailed an attack on their own person right in Dracula’s ancestral home.

“Holmes,” I said in wonder. “Moriarty brought part of the castle down!”

“So it would seem.”

“It’s… it’s unbelievable!”

“I’m afraid it is all too believable,” Holmes contradicted. “Count Dracula and I represent the very greatest threats to Moriarty’s dominion. Moriarty continues to be more aggressive. If this is the measure he’s taken for Dracula, I do not think it egoism to expect an equally fatal plan for ourselves.”

“It seems that Moriarty is no longer willing to wait until our… that is, your eventual demise through old age. What has changed?”

“What indeed?” Holmes asked by way of agreement. “It seems we shall have no help from the Carpathian Mountains. They have their own war to deal with and it is a defensive battle at best. I’m afraid that this may put a possible dampener on your medical activities.”

I had, indeed, resumed practice in the medical field and had been very successful at it, despite the necessity of keeping mostly night-time hours. It made house calls problematic, as no one is very impressed by an overly lethargic doctor, but with my newly enhanced senses and far steadier hand, I had created quite a name for myself.

“I had some cases this week,” I said, “but these are finished and I have nothing very absorbing now.”

“That is well,” Holmes said. “I will send a note for Somersby and Kitty Winter and have them speak to our other operatives of the Midnight Watch so that everyone is on their highest guard. It would be just as well to send one to Lestrade and Gregson at the Yard, though I will have to take some care with my words so that I can elevate their alertness without letting the cat out of the bag, as it were.”

“You may not have to,” I said. “I can hear Mrs Hudson talking to a delivery boy from the Yard now. They’ve sent you a telegram.”

“Really?”

“Mrs Hudson is a lovely woman,” I said, “but her voice does rather carry.”